


Shadow of the Sun

by ThornWild



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Character Death, Clerics, D&D fifth edition, Homelessness, Magic, Multi, Non-binary character, Original Universe, Sex Work, Transgender, Violence, wild magic sorcerer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-02-09 19:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18644860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornWild/pseuds/ThornWild
Summary: When Rowan's parents are killed, the six-year-old child ends up on the streets of Yaron Lux, the capital of the Sun Kingdom. Seven years later, Rowan is picked up by Garrin, an agent for the Sun's Representatives on Earth, who takes Rowan to the Church of the Sun. Here Rowan becomes an acolyte, but there are certain things the church can never know.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I owe the setting for this story to my group's Dungeon Master, who did some fantastic world building and then let me run wild with it. As such, this is almost an original work, with races and classes taken from D&D Fifth Edition, along with a few other elements of the story. There's also some elements from Pathfinder. When I started working on this character, it became clear they had a long story to tell. This is likely the first book in a series. It is a side-project of sorts and I'll be working on it when I feel like it.

The two men stepped inside the house. One of them was tall and broad, the other somewhat less so, but not by much. They both carried swords and daggers, and they both looked strong. The taller was slightly younger than the shorter one, but carried himself with the authority of one much older and more experienced. 

The house was dark, and the shorter man lit a hooded lantern, shining a dim light around the room. It was a small kitchen, with an oak dining table and a large wood-fired stove in the corner. There were two doors off to the side, and the taller man walked quietly over to them and opened each in turn. The first led to a bedroom, which contained one wide bed and one narrower, smaller one. A small family lived here, two adults and one child. The second door was locked, but the taller man picked the lock and entered. Within was what appeared to be a small study. Given the small size of the house and the relative simplicity of the living arrangements, this study contained a surprising amount of books. While the shorter man continued to search the kitchen and then the bedroom, the taller one lit his own lantern and began to go through books and papers. The books were mundane; history, medicine, some fiction. The papers, too, referred to mundane matters. Some were covered in a child’s colourful drawings and nonsensical scribbling. He gathered most of the papers and put them in his pack all the same.

He opened the drawers of the desk and felt around for hidden compartments, but found nothing. With a sigh, he left the room. His companion was back in the kitchen. 

‘There’s nothing here,’ the shorter man said softly. ‘It’s just a house.’

‘They had a child,’ said the taller. His voice was deep and commanding. ‘It must be found and dealt with.’

The shorter man cringed. ‘Must we really kill a child? Can’t we just leave it be?’

‘No. Besides, it would be a kindness. Its parents are dead. The child will likely die anyway. Are you certain you searched everywhere? In every cupboard? Under the beds?’

‘Yes. The child isn’t here. We should leave.’

‘Shh.’ The taller man placed a finger to his lips and looked around the room. ‘I heard something.’ And from somewhere there came a soft sound, only the bearest of sighs. The taller man walked quietly across the floor, towards the stove. The oven door was slightly ajar, by an inch or less. He opened it, and there it was, a child no more than six, staring at him with wide eyes. ‘Come now,’ said the taller man, reaching into the large oven. It was warm, but had not been lit since morning. ‘There’s a good lass.’

The child’s face turned from wide-eyed fear to rage, and it kicked at the taller man’s hand, hard. The taller man grunted in pain, but then grabbed the child's bare foot and pulled it out of the oven. Before it could scream, he clamped his hand over its mouth. In the light of the shorter man’s hooded lantern, one could see that the child had deep auburn hair and wide, hazel eyes. It squirmed in the taller man’s grasp, but he held it fast with his arm around its neck and his hand covering its mouth and nose. With his free hand, he pulled his dagger from its sheath at his hip and put it to the child’s throat, the glinting tip of it drawing blood as it scratched across the surface of the child’s skin.

But then something happened. The child’s eyes lit up bright blue with an otherworldly glow that then spread to the rest of its body, lighting up the room and blinding both men. Heat radiated from its body and then, in an instant, there was an explosion of fire. It incinerated the men—the dagger, now white hot, clattering to the floor—and the house went up in flame. 

Out from the smouldering building, away from the flames, the child disappeared, naked, into the night.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

PART I: 1093

 

‘Ya want food, ya better give me something in trade, little missy.’ The older man leered at me and I rolled my eyes.

‘Ain’t got any coin,’ I said. ‘And I ain’t no little missy, neither.’

He frowned, squinting at me. ‘Coulda sworn ya were a girl.’

‘Yeah, I get that a lot,’ I said. ‘So, still wanna trade?’

The man shrugged. ‘A hole’s a hole, don’t much matter to me which package it comes in. Got bread, but there’s salt meat in it for ya if ya let me put it up yer backside.’

I clenched my teeth. Looking at him, I knew that was gonna hurt. But then again, salt meat. It had been a while since I’d had any meat, and it was getting harder to go shopping or just brush someone. The city guard had increased their patrols and there had been more SRE about of late as well. Bread I could usually get with just a bit extra work, but meat? Hard to come by.

‘Fine,’ I said at last. ‘Lemme see the meat first, though.’

He opened his pack and pulled out a parcel of wax cloth. It smelled really good, and he opened it and showed me some of its content. ‘Give ya half.’ That wasn’t a bad deal for what would likely only take ten minutes. 

Turned out it didn’t take more than five. I walked away with a sore arse, half a loaf of bread, a small parcel of salt meat, and a copper he threw in for me being ‘such a good boy’. He told me to come back. I had no intention to. He smelled. Would have normally found someone more upstanding if they were gonna take it out in trade, but I couldn’t be picky. It had been a couple of days since I’d last eaten anything that could be considered food. Found an apple in the gutter the day before, but taking a bite I had found it was rotten and I had got sick, which is the worst thing you can do when you haven’t got much in your belly to begin with and you don’t know when your next meal’s gonna be. 

I knew of a good place to sleep nearby, if it weren’t taken. Too narrow for anyone dangerous to use for a bed; I could deal with a gnome or a halfling or another kid like me. Turning down an alley, I felt them before I saw them, sneaking down the alley behind me. Stopping and turning, I said, ‘What ya want? Ain’t got no coin or nothin’ of value. Ya may as well just move on.’

‘Sure ya got somethin’ of value, little girl,’ said a man, stepping out of the shadows. He wore a cowl but I saw by his pointed chin that he was an elf. Two others followed, another elf and a half-orc. ‘Ain’t seen a sweet thing like you in a while.’

‘Better show me silver, ya want any of that,’ I said. ‘Don’t work for less’n silver.’

All three of them laughed. ‘You ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from us. Assuming we even let ya live.’

I felt it build. If they tried to take me by force, I knew it would explode on out of me, and that would cause a ruckus. So instead, I tried to focus it, and suddenly the alley was blacker than the blackest night. I heard them move about. One of them swore loudly. I ran before the darkness could dissipate. I’d done that one before, to avoid getting pinched when I accidentally brushed a city guard. Turning invisible was good too. 

When I got to where I’d been going, I was pleased to find it empty. I pulled my ratty blanket out of my pack. It was summer, so I just laid it out and sat down on top of it, then opened up the parcel of meat. Real meat. I took a bite and got myself a chunk of bread. It was nothing fancy, but after two days of nothing, it felt like the world’s greatest feast and I sighed contentedly. I tried not to eat too quick. Had to try and make the food last as long as it could, and I didn’t want to make myself sick. My belly wasn’t exactly full by the time I lay down to sleep, but I wasn’t hungry either, and that wasn’t nothing. 

* * *

I managed to make the meat last for near a week, though the bread needed eating so as not to go stale. The copper that man had given me bought me more bread and I managed to avoid having to trade favours, but then food ran out. Didn’t much want to resort to trading, though, so I decided to try my luck at the market. I walked among the stalls, looking for a mark. The stall keepers eyed me suspiciously. They always did. I kept my head down and let my tangled auburn hair hang in front of my face. I had no intention of stealing from the stalls. Too risky, anyway. Their customers, though, that was another matter.

There. A loose coin purse. Its owner looked oblivious, busy examining a jeweller’s goods. All I had to do was walk past and snatch it. Owner looked wealthy, too. Clean and well groomed. Still keeping my head down, I brushed past the man and cut the strings of his purse with the small knife I carried up my sleeve. Purse in hand, I made to be on my merry way, but before I could get past, a hand closed around my wrist.

My eyes widened. A man in the white uniform of the Sun's Representatives on Earth looked down at me, a hard look in his piercing blue eyes. ‘Not so fast, pet.’ He plucked the coin purse from my hand and tapped its owner on the shoulder. ‘Best keep your purse closer, ser,’ he said. ‘There are thieves about.’

‘Oh!’ The man looked surprised and bewildered. ‘My thanks. Here, let me compensate you for your trouble . . .’ He reached into the purse. 

But the agent raised his hand and shook his head. ‘No need. Just take better care next time.’ Then he turned to me. ‘Let’s take a walk.’

I gulped, but had little choice but to follow him. I couldn’t work my magic in a public place like this, and his hand held my wrist firm. He took me away from the crowd, then turned to me. ‘You play a dangerous game, girl. I should take you to the city guard.’

He thought I was a girl, like most folk. That was good. People respond better to poor little girls. ‘No, please.’ I put as pleading a tone into my voice as I could. ‘Please, ser . . . I . . . I ain’t really a thief, I’m just so hungry . . .’ Conjuring up a tear was an easy thing to do. I was telling the truth, after all. Mostly.

The agent studied my face. He looked me up and down for a moment. Then he said, ‘Where do you live?’ I said nothing, casting my eyes down and looking at my feet. ‘Got nowhere to go?’ I shook my head. He nodded thoughtfully, and the next time I looked at him the look in his eyes had softened. ‘Come with me. I know a place you can get a hot meal, maybe even somewhere to sleep.’

Panic grew in my gut. I swallowed. ‘Where are you taking me? I . . . I don’t want to be hurt no more.’ Anyone half decent would take pity on you if you made it sound like you’d been abused some way or another. Not that I hadn’t been, mind.

He frowned. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, girl. Neither are the people I’m taking you to. There are charitable people in this world. Now come along.’ Against my better judgment, I went with him. It didn’t rightly feel like I had much of a choice, and he still held me by the wrist. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked as we walked. I considered making something up, but couldn’t really think of anything, so I opted for the truth.

‘Rowan,’ I said meekly. 

‘My name is Garrin,’ he told me. ‘I’m an agent of the SRE, but you already know that. I’m taking you to a church. They’ll help you.’ He glanced at my unwashed face and dirty clothes. ‘You were made for better things than thieving on the street. I can tell.’

I stayed silent and studied him as we walked. Garrin was tall and broad-shouldered with hair so light it was almost white. He carried an ornate sword and dagger. They looked to be a matching set. Could get a fair bit of cash for those from the right fence. The breastplate he wore over his white tunic was adorned with a blazing sun, the symbol of the church and of the Sun King. I wasn’t exactly educated, but that much I knew. He looked like a dangerous man. But then, SRE agents were all dangerous. That much I knew, too.

Just like he’d said, he took me to a church. He still held me by the wrist as he approached an older woman in a white robe with the same blazing sun embroidered on its chest. ‘Sister Yolanda.’

‘Garrin.’ She gave a tight-lipped smile. ‘It’s good to see you. And who’s this?’

‘This is Rowan. Homeless, poor child. I fear she may be a bit too old for the orphanage, but perhaps there’s a bed for her in the boarding house?’ He gave her a wide and disarming smile. ‘I’m sure she could prove herself useful. Isn’t that right, Rowan?’

I licked my lips. ‘Yes, ser.’

Sister Yolanda looked me over. ‘Boarding house is full,’ she said, ‘but we may be able to find space for a bedroll somewhere. Are you willing to do some chores for us, child? Sweeping the church, run a few messages and the like?’

Cringing inwardly, I said, ‘Yes, miss. Ain’t had cause to do much work like it before, but I’ll do whatever chores you like if it keeps me fed.’

‘Your parents?’

‘Dead, miss. Since I were six years old.’

‘And how old are you now?’

‘Thirteen. I think.’ 

‘That’s a long time spent on the street,’ said Garrin. ‘I’m impressed you’ve made it this far. It can’t have been easy.’

I looked down again. ‘You do what you must, ser,’ I mumbled. 

‘Well, the Sun is kind and merciful,’ said Sister Yolanda. ‘Whatever you’ve had to do before, it’s in the past now. If you’ll lend yourself to the church, we will keep you clothed and fed.’ She turned to the agent. ‘Thank you, Garrin. You’ve done this girl a kindness. Come with me, child.’

Garrin finally let go of my wrist, his fingertips brushing the pulse point. ‘I’ll come back to see you, pet,’ he said softly. ‘Sister Yolanda will look after you in the meantime.’

I watched him as he walked away, the touch of his hand lingering on my wrist. Everyone always wants something. Garrin was no exception and I didn’t believe for a second that he was acting just out of the goodness of his heart. Needed to keep my eye on him. Then I hurried off after Sister Yolanda, who had stopped a small ways off. She led me through the church. I glanced at the high columns that reached all the way up to the domed ceiling. It was covered in a great mosaic of the blazing sun. ‘Come along!’ said Sister Yolanda and I hurried up again.

She led me through a door off to the side which led out into a courtyard, then into another, smaller building, where a young man of seventeen or so stood over a wood fired stove. It seemed to be a kitchen. The young man also wore white robes, but without the large, emblazoned sun that adorned Sister Yolanda’s robes. Instead, they carried a small, embroidered emblem on the left side of the chest. ‘Moleyn,’ she said, and the young man turned around. ‘This is Rowan. She’s going to be staying with us. Moleyn is one of our acolytes,’ she told me. ‘Get her a bite to eat and heat some water for a bath.’ She looked me over with some distaste. ‘I’ll go get you something clean to wear.’ Then she left through the door.

‘Rowan, is it?’ Moleyn smiled at me. ‘I’ve got some stew cooking here, should be done in a few. Let me get you some bread.’

‘Thank you,’ I said softly. 

‘You come off the street, eh? Orphan?’ I nodded. ‘Well, we’ll look after you here. Have you been assigned a dormitory?’

I shook my head. ‘Sister Yolanda says there ain’t room. I’m to sleep elsewhere.’

Moleyn took a loaf of bread from the shelf above the counter top and cut me a piece with a knife. He handed me the bread and I sat down on a stool next to the counter. I did my best to take small bites and not wolf it down. Moleyn picked up a wooden pail that stood in the corner by the door and exited into the courtyard. Through the open door, I saw him approach an open barrel that stood beneath a gutter drain. He filled the pail and returned to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar to let some air in. He poured the water from the pail into a large kettle, which he put on the stove. Then he stirred the large pot of stew, had a taste off the end of his ladle, and pronounced it done.

He gave me a steaming hot bowl of food. It was a thick, hearty vegetable stew, and I ate it eagerly, soaking what remained of my bread in it. Moleyn pursed his lips, looking at me. ‘When did you last eat, Rowan?’

I shrugged. ‘Yesterday.’ In truth, it had been closer to two days again. Right then, I had never eaten anything as delicious as that stew.

His expression turned pained. ‘Poor child,’ he said softly. ‘Well, we’ll feed you here. It’ll take a while for the water to heat up, so you just take your time with that and I’ll be back in a little bit. Help yourself to more bread if you want it.’ He lifted the massive pot off the stove. It must have contained several gallons of stew, and he carried it over to another door with some difficulty. I got to my feet and opened the door for him. Beyond was a large room with several long tables, around which sat a few dozen people in white robes like the ones Moleyn wore. Other acolytes, must be. ‘Thank you, Rowan,’ he said, smiling, and then disappeared through the door. I closed it behind him and returned to my food.

Looking around the kitchen, I made a mental note of everything. There were shelves carrying herbs, spices, and jars of pickled vegetables and other preserves; barrels full of potatoes and turnips; sacks of flour; baskets full of apples and quinces; and there were preserved meats hanging from a rail above one of the counters, including a cured leg of lamb and several smoked sausages. I’d never seen so much food in one place. There was a trapdoor in a corner, and once I had finished my stew, I tested it; it was not locked and I lifted it slightly, looking down a narrow staircase into a darkened space. The air that met me was cool. A larder of sorts, probably. I closed the trapdoor again and sat back down on my stool.

Sister Yolanda returned with a bundle of cloth. ‘Did Moleyn feed you?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, miss.’

‘Good. Here are some clean clothes for you to put on after you have washed.’ She put the bundle on the counter rather than giving it to me. Just as well, my hands weren’t exactly clean.

‘Thank you, miss,’ I said. She nodded and left again. Not really the matronly sort, that one.

A good fifteen minutes later, Moleyn returned to the kitchen. ‘All done?’ he asked, smiling at me again. He had a nice smile, reassuring, and I wondered what his deal was. What lay beneath that smile? What did he want from me? Everybody wants something, I reminded myself again.

‘Yes, ser,’ I said, keeping my voice meek and level. ‘It was real good.’

Moleyn laughed. ‘That’s good, but you don’t need to call me ser. Just Moleyn is more than good enough.’ He stepped up to the stove. ‘Water should be warm enough now.’ Wrapping a linen towel around the handle, he lifted the kettle off the stove. ‘Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.’ 

I picked up the bundle Sister Yolanda had left me, and Moleyn led me outside again and across the courtyard, to a low wooden building with several doors. Flies buzzed around a few of them, and there was a definite smell of urine and faeces in the air. Shithouses. The door furthest away had no buzzing flies, though, and opening it revealed a room with a small wooden tub in it. On a shelf were clean, white linen towels. 

Moleyn set the kettle down on the wooden floor and picked up two pails that stood just inside the door. He handed one to me and I followed him outside again. We filled the pails from another large barrel standing underneath another gutter drain and then returned to empty them into the tub. Two trips were needed. Then Moleyn lit a candle on a shelf, pointed to the kettle, and said, ‘Just pour that in until the temperature’s comfortable. Bring the kettle back to me when you’re done, all right?’

‘Er, yeah. Thanks.’

When he was gone, I closed and latched the door and began pouring water from the kettle into the tub. Soon, it was nice and warm, and I took off my clothes. The floor was slatted so that water would pour down into a gutter below, which likely emptied into some kind of sewage system. The tub was large enough to sit in, but I figured that if I did, the water would turn black before I had a chance to wash my face, so instead I picked up a large, wooden ladle that lay on a stool, sat down on said stool next to the tub, and began ladling warm water over my arms, legs, and torso, and then over my head as well. It poured off me dark with dirt and grime. I picked up a chunk of soap and worked the suds into my hair. It hadn’t seen soap or even a comb in years. I normally washed in rainwater when I could, which sadly did little for the tangled, greasy mop on my head. I lathered the rest of my body in soap as well and used a rag that hung on the wall to scrub myself clean.

Once I was no longer utterly filthy, I added a bit more hot water from the kettle into the cooling water in the tub and then sat in it with a sigh. The tub was small and I hugged my knees to my chest, but the water went halfway up my arms and I felt warm and comfortable. 

I listened to the quiet sound of water dripping from the slats down into the gutter. Made me feel almost serene, though my head was noisy. What even was this place? What did they want from me? Charitable, Garrin had said. A lie. No such thing as charity, and that’s as sure as the sun rising in the morning.

The water wasn’t exactly clean by the time it was turning tepid and I got out of the tub, but I could still see the bottom so I figured I must be clean enough. There was a stopper in the bottom of the tub which I pulled out, and the water drained down into the gutter below.

I dried myself off with a clean linen towel, which was left only a little bit stained, and then wiped the floor with it. Then I looked at what Sister Yolanda had given me. It was a simple, white linen shift and, bundled up inside, a thin leather cord for a belt and a pair of simple cloth slippers with thin leather soles. I’d not had proper shoes in years, so I eagerly put them on my calloused feet, then strapped my little knife to my thigh. The shift went to just below the knee, the sleeves ending just below the elbow. Not exactly high fashion, but a right sight better than the torn tunic and tattered trousers I had been wearing. I looked at them where they lay on the floor, wondering if they would even be worth salvaging.

There was a basket underneath the shelf the towel had come from. I guessed that it was meant for used ones, so I dropped it in there along with the rag I had used to scrub myself with. Then I picked up my old clothes and the by now empty kettle, blew out the candle, and went outside. It had got dark, and I wondered how long I had been in the bath. I trotted across the courtyard to the kitchen.

Moleyn was there, along with a boy about my age who wore the same robes as Moleyn. Another acolyte, then. He looked at me curiously as I stepped inside.

‘Oh, there you are, Rowan!’ Moleyn turned to the boy. ‘Archer, go find Sister Yolanda, please.’ The boy did as he asked and brushed past me out into the courtyard, but not before glancing at me again with curious, blue eyes. 

‘How well you look, now that you’re no longer so dirty, hm?’ Moleyn smiled at me. I took another step inside and set down the kettle. ‘Ah, yes. Thank you.’ He picked it up and placed it next to the stove. ‘Did you enjoy your bath?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, s—Moleyn.’ I felt myself blush a little. ‘I ain’t really . . . I mean, I ain’t had a bath in . . .’ I trailed off.  _ Not since my parents died, _ I thought. 

‘That’s all right,’ he said gently. ‘We should find you a comb later. Tame that wild hair of yours, hm?’

I dared to meet his eye then. He had kind eyes, a warm nut brown to match his dark complexion, and I returned his smile. A kind man, on the surface, at least. I wanted to believe that he was kind. But he was a stranger, and I was surrounded by strangers just like him. People whose intentions I had no idea of. Had to keep my guard up. Play the sad little girl for now.

The boy, Archer, returned with Sister Yolanda in tow. She looked me over, scrutinising. ‘Yes, this will do,’ she said. ‘Come along, I’ll show you where you’re to sleep.’

I hesitated. ‘Beg pardon, miss . . . What do I do with my old clothes?’

Sister Yolanda looked down her nose at the bundle in my arms. ‘Archer.’

The boy straightened and answered at once. ‘Yes, Sister Yolanda?’

‘Take Rowan’s old clothes and have them burned.’

‘Yes, Sister Yolanda.’ He stepped up to me and gave me a small smile as he took the dirty rags from me. Then he left the kitchen.

‘Now, come, child,’ said Sister Yolanda, and I followed her outside again, across the courtyard. She carried a candle holder with a short wax candle in it. ‘As I said to Garrin, we have no room at the boarding house, but I have found a space where you can sleep. It is sheltered, and the weather is warm so you should be comfortable enough. Through here.’ She led me through a space between two buildings, to a shed. 

Opening the door revealed it to be a storage shed for gardening tools and the like. In a corner lay a bedroll and a blanket. A much nicer blanket than the one I had stowed in my pack. ‘Hopefully, we’ll find a place for you before long, either here with us or elsewhere,’ said Sister Yolanda. ‘In the meantime, you can sleep in here.’ She set the candle down on a shelf and pulled out a tinderbox to light it. ‘Tomorrow morning, at the cock’s crow, you are to go to the kitchen. You will be assisting Moleyn to begin with. If he has a chore for you, you do it.’

‘Yes, miss,’ I said.

She gave me a curt nod. ‘You’d best get some sleep, child. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, miss.’ I watched her leave, closing the door behind her.

Sitting down on the bedroll, I noticed for the first time how tired I felt. It had been a long and eventful day. It seemed almost impossible that I’d woken up in a back-alley. Now here I was, bathed, clothed, and fed. The bedroll might not have been much by these people’s standards, but by mine the little shed might as well have been a palace, and the blanket an eiderdown duvet.

I took the candle holder from the shelf and set it on the floor next to me, then lay down on the bedroll, pulling the blanket over myself. I looked around at the shadows cast by the candle. Then I blew out the flame and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke at the cock’s crow and, like Sister Yolanda had told me to, headed to the kitchen, stopping at the privy on the way. I was used to just finding a gutter to piss in. I wondered as I entered the little fly-infested space if maybe that was preferable. Still, I didn't much want to get my prick out where anyone could see while I was here. I hadn't quite made up my mind yet, about whether I should be a girl or a boy here. I didn't like having to choose. Not when I knew in my heart that I was neither. Not when it could change at the drop of a hat, even if it hadn’t for years now.

Afterwards, I headed for the kitchen. I found Moleyn already there, elbows deep in a large bowl, the sleeves of his robes rolled up to his shoulders. He smiled when I entered. ‘Morning, Rowan. Would you mind getting me that sack of flour over there?’ He gestured with his head and I did as he asked.

Moleyn extracted one hand from the bowl and reached into the sack for a handful of flour, which he added to the bowl. Then he continued to knead. ‘Today’s bread,’ he said. I stepped closer and looked into the massive bowl at the sourdough. ‘It’s been raising overnight,’ he told me. ‘Here, give me a hand.’

He had me sprinkle flour over a countertop and then I helped him tip the bowl over and roll the dough out onto the counter. He cut it into twenty-four pieces and we rolled them into loaves that looked even enough. We put the first batch of four into the oven, and then Moleyn turned to me. ‘I have a surprise for you,’ he said and smiled. Out of a pouch at his belt he produced a long toothed comb made of finely carved bone. ‘Let’s get that hair of yours tamed, shall we?’

He sat me down on a stool and stood behind me, where he began an attempt at untangling my hair. It hurt a bit and I gritted my teeth. ‘Hm,’ he said. ‘This may be trickier than I thought.’

‘I ain’t been able to comb it in years,’ I admitted. ‘May be better off just cuttin’ it all off.’

Moleyn hummed again. ‘You may be right. Shame, if so.’

I shrugged. ‘It grows back.’

‘You want me to cut it?’ he asked. 

‘Nah, you don’ have to,’ I said, shifting uncomfortably where I sat. ‘I mean, you got better things to do, don’t ya?’

‘Bread’s in the oven, the rest’s just sitting there waiting. I’ve got time.’ He stepped away and walked over to a cupboard. He pulled a pair of shears from it and returned to me. ‘You’re sure?’ he asked pointedly.

‘Yeah.’ I shrugged. ‘Can’t be worse than it is. Haven’t seen myself in a glass, but can’t imagine it looks any good.’

Moleyn smiled and walked over to the wall, pulling down a polished copper tray. He held it in front of me. 

I’d been right. My hair was tangled and matted, even though I had washed it the night before. It looked horrendous. ‘Yeah,’ I said again. ‘Take it off.’

He did as I asked, and soon my hair was a great deal shorter. He didn’t shave it all off. Instead, he took the comb and worked the tangles out, which was far easier now than it had been before. What remained when he was finished reached to just below my ears. He showed me my reflection in the tray again. It was choppy, but it kind of suited me.

‘I . . .’ I swallowed. ‘I look nice.’

‘You do,’ said Moleyn. 

‘I didn’t know I could look nice.’

‘I did. I knew there was a pretty girl hiding under there.’ He smiled kindly at me, and for a moment I considered just saying it, telling him, ‘Actually, I ain’t a girl.’ But I didn’t know how he’d react, and anyway, it wasn’t any of his business. 

So instead, I said, ‘Thank you, Moleyn. No one’s done anythin’ like this for me before.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘someone should. Might as well be me, eh?’

This time, I returned his smile. ‘Thank you,’ I repeated. ‘You’re ever so sweet.’

Moleyn turned away, still smiling. ‘All right, let’s get to work. How about you sweep up all this hair, and the flour from the baking. Broom’s in the corner.’

I observed him while I swept the floor, and then while I scrubbed it when he asked me to. Moleyn pottered about the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the acolytes, which involved boiling several dozen eggs. ‘How many people live here?’ I asked as he set the last of the bread loaves to bake in the oven.

‘Well,’ he looked thoughtful, ‘we’re about five dozen acolytes. Then there’s clergy, about twenty of those.’

‘Like Sister Yolanda?’

‘Exactly. Then there tend to be about a dozen SRE agents living here at any given time, when they’re not out on assignments.’

‘But Garrin don’t live here,’ I said without thinking.

Moleyn frowned at me. ‘Garrin?’

‘Agent what brought me here. He don’t live here.’ I focused on scrubbing the floor.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ Moleyn said after a little while. ‘He’s quartered elsewhere. There are other places. We’ve got the orphanage, though, and we train the acolytes. I expect that’s why Garrin brought you here.’ The tone of his voice was odd, and I looked up at him.

‘D’you know Garrin?’ I asked.

Moleyn shook his head. ‘Not personally. Only by reputation.’

‘An’ what’s his reputation?’

‘Gossip.’ Moleyn turned away from me, started chopping something I couldn’t see. ‘Can’t put any stock into it. He’s a good agent. He gets results. That’s all I really know.’

I bit my lip. I wanted to ask more questions, but thought Moleyn might be cross with me if I did, so I held my tongue. I could ask more questions later. ‘Floor’s clean,’ I said. ‘What do I do now?’

He turned to me, smiling once more. ‘Now, you help me sample the bread we just baked. I’ll go get us some butter from the cellar.’ As he walked by me, he ruffled my hair. I couldn’t help smiling. I might not trust him, but I was becoming more and more convinced that Moleyn was the decent sort. Maybe there were good people in the world.

* * *

The following day, Garrin came back to check on me. He found me just outside the kitchen, on my way back from the well with a pail of water. I didn’t see him at first as he stood in the shadows, and near dropped the pail when he spoke my name.

‘Rowan. Good to see you.’

‘Oh! Garrin, ser. You gave me such a fright.’ I licked my lips. ‘Er, good to see you, too. I just have to . . .’ I walked the remaining steps to the kitchen. The door was open and I placed the pail just within. Moleyn looked up at me, then over my shoulder, and his eyes widened a bit.

I turned back, and Garrin stood there, just behind me. He grabbed hold of my wrist as he had before and walked me off to where he had been standing, in the shadow of the overhanging roof. ‘Have they been taking good care of you, pet?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, ser. They been good to me, got me clean clothes and kept me fed.’

Garrin lifted his hand and tucked some of my hair behind my ear. ‘And cut your hair, I see.’

‘Moleyn did it,’ I said. ‘He’s been ever so nice. I work in the kitchen with him most of the time. Er, he tried to just comb it, but . . . Wouldn’t do no good, ser.’

‘It looks good on you.’ Garrin smiled, and his ice blue eyes bored into mine. ‘I’m glad they’re looking after you. Moleyn seems a capable lad.’ Though as he said it, I thought I sensed a darkness in his voice, and his eyes.

I frowned. ‘Ya know him, ser?’

Garrin chuckled. ‘I know everyone, girl. It’s my job.’ He ruffled my hair gently. Then he frowned, cupping my chin and raising it. He ran his fingers lightly over the scar across my throat. ‘Who did this to you, pet?’

‘I . . .’ I swallowed, made to step away, but he slid his hand round to the back of my neck, keeping me in place. ‘Can’t quite recall, ser. I were very young. Some . . . some men tried to kill me, but I ran away.’

He nodded. ‘Good girl.’ He ran his hand down my neck to my shoulder, and then down to my wrist, where he rubbed his thumb over the pulsepoint again. ‘I wanted to see how you were, but I can’t stay long today, my little sweetheart. I’m off on a mission. I’ll return in a week, maybe ten days at most. I’ll come see you again then.’

‘Yes, ser,’ I said meekly. Garrin’s words unsettled me. I wasn’t so sure that I wanted him to come back to see me. Something about him set my spine tingling. 

He took my hand, then bent forward and kissed the top of my head lightly. Then he let go and stepped back. ‘Be good, pet.’

‘I will.’ I watched him depart, his breastplate glinting in the sun as he stepped out from beneath the roof. I felt suddenly cold and shivered where I stood, even though it was a beautiful, warm day. He turned a corner and was gone. Letting out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, I felt tension drain from my body and returned to the kitchen.

‘Hey you,’ said Moleyn with a smile as I stepped over the threshold. ‘Visit over?’

I nodded. I was tempted to ask him, once again, what he knew about Garrin. Ask him about those rumours he had mentioned. But I didn’t. Instead I picked up the broom and set to sweeping the floor. It seemed the thing to do.

* * *

The church, which I had been told was in truth called a cathedral, was very large. On my third day, I walked the length of it, from entrance to altar. There were statues, massive ones, of a man with a large crown. Behind the statues were reliefs of shining rays, painted in gold leaf. I looked up at the domed ceiling again, at the blazing sun mosaic.

Up by the altar was a podium, upon which lay a large, thick book. It’s cover was pure silver with gold inlays, again of the blazing sun. There was no one about, so I opened it gingerly, scanning the pages. ‘For th—the Sun K—king is k—kind and b—be—nev—’ I gave up with a frustrated sigh. The Thieves Cant I knew like the back of my hand, but reading common was difficult.

Returning to the kitchen with the bundle I’d been sent to fetch from the market, I said to Moleyn, ‘Can you tell me about the Sun King?’

He looked up at me in surprise. ‘You don’t know about He Who Walks In the Light?’

I shrugged. ‘I lived on the streets for years. Ain’t no one teach religion to gutter rats.’

‘How long?’ he asked. ‘How long were you on the streets?’

I hesitated. ‘What year is it?’

‘Ten-ninety-three,’ he said.

‘Oh. Then, seven. Or thereabouts. I were six, I think, when . . .’

‘Seven years . . .’ Moleyn shook his head. ‘When’s your birthday?’

‘Eleventh of Baldyn,’ I said at once, then paused, adding, ‘I think.’

‘So you’re thirteen. And all this time . . . You poor thing.’ He turned to me, and then he put his arms around me and hugged me. My instinct was to push him away, but his embrace was warm, and before I knew it, there were tears pooling in my eyes. I held them at bay, but returned the hug, and he stroked my back soothingly. ‘You’re here now,’ he said softly. ‘You’re safe, and you’ll never have to go back.’

I nodded stiffly and he let me go, smiling at me. I cleared my throat. ‘So . . . the Sun King?’

‘Well,’ said Moleyn, returning to his work of preparing dinner, ‘He is the living Sun. The Sun gives us life. It is benevolent, and so is He, though He can burn as well as restore. He protects us from darkness and guides us towards the light.’

‘Benevolent,’ I repeated. ‘So that was that word I read.’

‘You read?’ There was some surprise in Moleyn’s voice. 

‘Oh, er . . .’ I blushed. ‘Not really, I jus’ tried to . . . There were a book. In the church.’

‘But you managed to read a little bit?’

‘I ain’t a scholar,’ I said. ‘But before my parents died, they taught me some. Bit of writing, too. Can’t remember most of it.’

Moleyn looked thoughtful. Then he smiled at me. ‘Here,’ he said, stepping away from the counter. ‘Chop these onions for me. Just quarter them. I’ll be right back.’

Again, I did as I was told. I didn’t mind doing as I was told when Moleyn was giving me the orders. He was kind, and in spite of myself, I was beginning to trust him. After a few minutes, he returned, and in his hand was a book. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it to me. In his other hand he carried a quill, and out of his belt pouch he pulled a vial of ink. ‘Take these and just give me a few minutes to get the stew on the boil.’

While he worked, I opened the book. The cover was plain leather with no words on it. The pages were blank. We’d had books, when I was little, but I had never seen one with no words in it before. Not that I could recall, in any case.

‘Right.’ Moleyn placed the large pot to boil, then came to me. We sat on the floor. ‘I’m going to teach you the alphabet properly. How to write it. But first, let’s write your name, okay?’

He opened the vial, dipped the quill, and on the first page wrote, in a beautiful hand,  _ Rowan’s Journal _ . ‘This book is yours,’ he said. ‘You can write whatever you like in it. Just . . . keep it hidden for now, all right?’ He winked. 

I squinted at the words. I recognised my name, but it took me a while to suss out the word ‘journal’. Once I had, I read it back to him and his smile widened. ‘Very good!’ he said enthusiastically. 

Moleyn wrote down the alphabet and I copied it. Then he had me write my name. ‘R-O-W-A-N,’ he said, and I copied the letters. ‘Good. Now write mine. M-O-L-E-Y-N.’

I wrote it, then said, ‘But that’s not how you say it.’

He laughed. ‘Writing doesn’t always make sense. That’s why you have to learn it.’ He wrote it too, next to what I had written, in his fine hand.

‘I ain’t ever gonna be able to write that nice,’ I said in awe.

‘Yes you will. Soon enough.’ Moleyn stroked back my hair and smiled fondly at me. It felt very different from the way Garrin had done it. As though Moleyn stroked my hair for my sake, whereas Garrin had done it for himself. I leaned into his touch. It felt nice. ‘You just keep practicing. Not much else I’m gonna need you to do for a while, so you can do this instead.’

I returned his smile. ‘All right.’ I watched him stand and return to the counter to tidy it. ‘Moleyn?’ He turned to me. ‘Thank you. Truly. No one been this kind to me since . . . ever.’

He gave a small chuckle. ‘Well, then it’s about time, isn’t it?’

* * *

Ten days passed before Garrin’s return. He came back in the middle of the night and I woke with his hand over my mouth. ‘Shh,’ he whispered and removed his hand. ‘There’s a good girl.’

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. ‘Garrin?’ I squinted at him. ‘What are you—?’

‘Shh,’ he said again. ‘Come with me. I want to speak to you.’

He took me by the wrist and led me from the shed. Out through the smaller back entrance to the monastery, past the orphanage and down two alleys, until we stood in a secluded corner of an alley down by the riverbed. ‘There. Now we can talk,’ he said. He did not let go, again rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb. ‘I came back this morning. Went by the kitchen, but you looked busy with that Moleyn.’

I smiled at the memory. Moleyn had been helping me with my writing again. Every time I wrote a word right, he’d give me a pat on the head or the shoulder and tell me how well I was doing. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘He’s real nice. He been teaching me how to write.’

‘So I saw,’ said Garrin. He was smiling, but there was something dark in his eyes. ‘But he has no business touching you, Rowan. You’re my little sweetheart. I didn’t put you there to get pawed at by an acolyte.’

I swallowed. ‘It ain’t like that, ser,’ I said softly. ‘He’s jus’ my friend. We ain’t done—’

‘I don’t care what you have or haven’t done,’ he growled. ‘You belong to me. You’re not to let anyone else touch you, you understand? Now, take off your clothes.’

I blinked. ‘What?’

‘You heard me, girl.’

Shaking my head, I took a step back. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Please, ser . . . I done enough of that on the street. I don’t—I don’t have to do that sort of thing anymore.’

‘You will do it for me,’ he said. And with a hand on my shoulder, he pushed me to my knees. He was wearing a tunic and trousers, and now he undid his britches. ‘There’s a good girl.’

He held me by the hair, but I refused to open my mouth. I wouldn’t. I didn’t have to. I was meant to be safe now, Moleyn had said. I shouldn’t have to. I screwed my eyes shut, tried to stop the tears threatening to well forth. 

When it became clear that I wouldn’t do as he asked, Garrin pulled me up by the hair. ‘If you won’t give it, I will take it,’ he growled. ‘Now take off your clothes, girl!’

‘No!’ I said, louder. ‘I won’t, you can’t make me!’ Suddenly, there was a dagger at my throat and I fell silent.

‘Take. Off. Your. Clothes.’

This time, I did as he said. As soon as my shift was off he stared at me in horror. His gaze travelled down my body, pausing at what was between my legs. ‘What’s the meaning of this? You’re a fucking boy? You little liar!’ His voice was quiet, but his tone was dangerous.

I stood my ground now, meeting his eye. ‘I ain’t ever said I was a girl,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘But I ain’t a boy neither.’

‘You dirty little freak.’ His voice was calm, controlled. Then he grabbed me by the throat, held up his dagger again. I grabbed his wrist, tried to break free, and it happened. Like it had back then, it just happened. Not fire this time, but ice. It coursed out of me and into him. His eyes widened as his hand turned white with frost. He tried to pull it away, but my power held him fast and soon the cold spread through him, turning his skin a pale blue. He gasped for air as his face paled and then I finally let him go and he fell to the ground, stiff as a board.

I squatted next to him. He was still alive. I could tell by his eyes. ‘You picked the wrong “girl”,’ I told him. I took his ornate dagger from his cold, stiff hand and held it to his jugular. ‘And you’ll die for that.’ Then I slit his throat. I watched as the life left his eyes, as his lifeblood pumped from his body until it grew sluggish when his heart stopped beating. 

Rifling through his pockets, I found a few silver and a key. That was all he carried, but I took them anyway. Wiping the dagger on his tunic and taking the sheath from his belt, I used what power I had left in me to push him into the river. I watched him float away, sheathing the dagger and clutching it so tightly in my hand I thought I might bleed. Then I strapped it to my thigh, where I kept my knife, pulled my shift back on, and went back to the monastery at a slow pace, taking care to stick to the shadows.

When I got back to my little shed, I hid the dagger and coins at the bottom of my pack. I examined the key. It was simple, unremarkable. Most likely, I thought, it unlocked his house or his rooms, wherever he was quartered. After a few moments’ consideration, I stuck that in my pack, too, before lying down under the blanket. It took a long time for sleep to find me.

* * *

I woke up with a headache, having barely slept at all, and made my way to the kitchen. Moleyn wasn’t there yet, so I lit the oven and went and found the bowl with the sourdough for the day’s bread and began to prepare it on my own. When he hadn’t shown up some twenty minutes later I became a bit concerned, however. Moleyn had taken me via his dormitory once, so I knew the way, and now I made my way there. I knocked on the closed door. It took a few moments, but then it opened and I was met by Archer, the boy I had met briefly on my first day.

He rubbed sleep out of his eyes and squinted at me. ‘Rowan? It’s Rowan, right?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. Er . . . Moleyn’s not shown up for kitchen duty. He’s usually real early. Thought maybe he’s overslept?’

‘Huh. That’s unlike him.’ Archer smiled at me. ‘I’ll go see if he’s in his bed.’ I waited in the doorway and watched Archer retreat into the room. After a few moments, I heard a gasp, and then Archer cried out, ‘Oh, gods!’

Without thinking, I ran into the room, where a dozen or so boys between twelve and eighteen slept, though most were now waking from their slumber. I found Archer backed into the wall, staring at a bed. Rushing to the bedside, the first thing I saw was Moleyn’s unseeing eyes.

‘No . . .’ The tears came before I could even fathom what I was seeing. ‘No! Fuck, no!’ I knelt next to bed bed and reached for Moleyn’s hand. It was stone cold. His face was ashen. ‘Moleyn, please, no . . .’ I sobbed, bowing my head. Unconsciously, I kissed his hand. 

A few moments later, I felt someone touch my shoulder. I turned my head and found Archer looking at me in a similar state of distress. He reached for my hand and I let him take it and pull me to my feet. Without thinking, I put my arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. He didn’t hesitate to hug me back, holding me close while he cried as well.

It wasn’t long before someone went to fetch Sister Yolanda. Her eyes were dark as she turned to Archer and me, who were still standing closest. ‘What happened?’ she demanded sternly.

Archer sniffed. ‘He . . . I found him like this. Rowan said he didn’t show up for kitchen duty.’

‘Rowan?’ said Sister Yolanda, turning her eyes on me.

‘Like he says.’ My voice sounded choked, alien to my ears. ‘I . . . I was wondering where he were, and . . . I came to look for him.’ I swallowed, trying to control my quavering voice. ‘He . . . he’s cold, miss. He’s all cold.’ Then I burst into tears again and Archer pulled me into another embrace.

I heard Sister Yolanda speak to someone else, but I wasn’t listening to her words. They would investigate. They would try to find out what had happened. I knew what had happened. Garrin had happened. And it had been because of me, because Moleyn had been my friend, cared for me, taken care of me. Perhaps even loved me, or he would have, had we had more time together. Moleyn. The only person who had ever been kind to me without expecting anything in return.

The one comfort I found, was that I had killed that bastard before he had time to kill anyone else. With any luck, I had sent him straight to hell. 

Turning away from Archer, I grabbed Sister Yolanda’s sleeve. ‘Bring him back!’ I said, more angry now than sad. ‘Please! You has healing magics, you can . . . You can bring people back, I seen it!’

For the first time, Sister Yolanda looked at me with kindness. ‘No, child,’ she said. ‘I can’t. That sort of thing . . . it must be done immediately. He has been dead for many hours.’

‘No . . .’ I whispered. ‘He can’t just be gone . . .’

‘I’m so sorry, Rowan.’ She squeezed my shoulder. ‘I know he was your friend.’ She sighed. ‘Archer. Look after her today. She needs a friend. Perhaps you can be one.’

‘Yes, Sister Yolanda.’ Archer took me by the hand.

I shook my head. ‘Got bread needs baking,’ I said. ‘Eggs need boiling. People . . . people got to eat.’ I looked up at Sister Yolanda. ‘Let me work.’

She pursed her lips, considered me for some moments. ‘All right. Archer will assist you, until I can find a replacement for Moleyn.’

A tear rolled down my cheek. Letting out a sigh, I whispered, ‘No one can replace Moleyn.’


	4. Chapter Four

Archer followed me to the kitchen. I made a beeline for the counter, where I had left the sourdough. ‘Bring me that bag of flour, please,’ I said as I began kneading the dough. Archer did as I asked and I stuck my hand in, sprinkling flour over the dough to make it less sticky. As I stood there, my vision grew blurry and I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand, leaving my cheeks streaked with flour. _Today’s bread._ Had to get it done. I sprinkled some more flour onto the countertop, tipping the dough out onto the surface. 

‘We have to, er . . .’ I sniffed. ‘We have to divvy this up to two dozen loaves. You can get started and I’ll jus’ . . .’ I made to go check the oven but before I could make it there, my knees gave way and I stumbled to the floor.

Archer was there at once, a soothing hand on the back of my neck and another at my elbow. ‘Hey, it’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘We can take our time, okay? No one’s gonna mind if breakfast’s a bit late, not today. Shh,’ he said as I began to cry in earnest, and he put his arms around me again.

‘Bread’s the first thing he taught me,’ I managed between sobs. ‘Then . . . then we’ve got to boil the eggs. Half the bread’s for breakfast, rest’s for dinner. We had a stew planned for today. Turnips and, and carrots. It’s week’s end, so s-salt meat fr-from the larder downstairs. Cooked the stock from mutton bone last night.’

For each thing I said, Archer uttered a ‘hm’ or nodded his head, telling me that he was listening. ‘I’ll bet that stew will be really tasty,’ he said when I had finished. ‘How about I check the oven and you can show me the rest, yeah?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. Yeah, that—that’s good.’

He stroked my back a few times and then pressed his lips against the top of my head as he stood. ‘Go splash some water on your face,’ he said. ‘I’ll be here.’

* * *

I slept poorly that night, and the one after, and the one after that. When I closed my eyes, I saw either Moleyn’s unseeing eyes or Garrin’s slit throat, and when I did sleep I would wake up sweating and weeping. I spent my days in the kitchen. Archer was an able assistant, and in the two weeks I had worked there with Moleyn, I had learned the routines and the ins and outs quite well. And there was Moleyn’s recipe book. Archer read the recipes, I made the preparations.

A few days later, Garrin’s corpse turned up. Sister Yolanda took it upon herself to inform me. ‘I am sorry, child. For you to lose two friends like this . . . It must be very hard.’ I only nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak. The circumstances around Moleyn’s death were considered suspicious, though no one seemed sure of exactly how he had died. Whatever Garrin had done hadn’t left a mark. How Garrin had died was not up for debate; he had very clearly been murdered.

After Sister Yolanda left the kitchen, I felt Archer move up behind me, placing his hand gently on my shoulder. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly.

I nodded. ‘I’m fine. I . . . I didn’t really know him that well, he just . . . he’s the one brought me here.’

‘Yes, I heard. Moleyn told me.’

I turned around in surprise. ‘Moleyn did? He talked about me?’

Archer looked away, his cheeks a bit red. ‘I . . . I asked about you. You’re new, so I was curious.’

‘What’d he say, then?’ I found myself smiling, though I wasn’t entirely sure why.

‘Only that you’d lived on the street, and that Garrin brought you here.’

Hesitating, I licked my lips. ‘Did . . . do you know anything about Garrin?’

‘Well . . .’ Archer seemed to hesitate as well. ‘I know that he was a really famous agent. Or infamous, you might say. There were some rumours.’

‘Moleyn mentioned rumours,’ I said. ‘Didn’t want to tell me what they were, though. Will you?’

‘Are you sure you want to hear them?’

‘Yes,’ I said at once. ‘Tell me.’

‘Well . . . they say he was ruthless. Pragmatic. Whatever he had to do to get results, he did it. And . . . well, they say he had . . . appetites. Dunno if there’s any truth to it. It’s all gossip, but I heard one acolyte say that he—’ Archer paused, looking at his feet. ‘He liked to hurt people. Both the heretics he hunted and . . . women.’

Swallowing, I looked away. That all sounded about right. I shuddered, screwing up my eyes and trying to make the images of Garrin and the memory of his touch go away. 

Archer appeared to take my silence for something else. ‘It’s all just rumours, though,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Really. Probably none of it’s true.’

I met his eyes, smiling, and nodded my head. But in my heart, I knew that everything Archer had just told me was true.

* * *

About a week after Garrin’s body had been discovered, Sister Yolanda came to me in the kitchen and informed me that a space had opened up in the girls’ dormitories and that, if I wanted, I could be initiated as an acolyte and move in there. I didn’t think on it long. The idea of being allowed to stay here permanently, of not having to worry about ending up back on the street, was definitely attractive. As was the idea of sleeping in a proper bed.

My initiation took place the very next day, in the church, in front of the altar. The High Priest, Father Eaghan, presided over my initiation. I was dressed in a long, white robe, like the one the other acolytes wore, with a blazing sun emblem on it. Father Eaghan had me put my hand over the emblem, kneel, and repeat after him.

‘I pledge myself to the Church of the Sun, to learn the Eternal Truth. There is but one true God, the Sun King, Blessed be He who walks in the Light. He who gives Life and Light to His followers. He who burns heretics and scorches His enemies. I reject all false gods to pledge myself to His service, and hereby swear to defer to the judgment of His chosen, the Clergy of the Church of the Sun and the Sun’s Representatives on Earth, until such time as I come of age and may choose my path. Blessed be He who walks in the Light, and may His kingdom last forever and ever. So shall it be.’

He offered me his hand. ‘Arise, Rowan, Acolyte of the Sun.’ I took his hand and stood, then kissed his ring. ‘May you walk in the Light, reject the Darkness, and live a life without sin.’

I walked down the steps from the altar and was immediately met by Archer, who took both my hands in his and kissed me on both cheeks. ‘You’re one of us now!’ he said and grinned. ‘I’m so glad, Rowan.’ He turned to a girl standing next to him. She was pale, with long black hair tied back, and quite beautiful, though there was something about her expression that made her less so. ‘This is Phaedra. She shares your dormitory and she’s going to show you where you’re to sleep and things like that.’

Phaedra also took my hands and kissed me on both cheeks. A formal greeting. ‘Welcome, my sister, and may you ever walk in the Light,’ she said stiffly.

‘In the Light may you walk,’ I replied, as I had been instructed was the proper reply. ‘And thanks.’ I smiled at her, and she returned it, though again, there was something insincere about it. ‘I’m gonna need all the help I can get.’

‘You will,’ she replied coolly.

Archer glanced from one to the other of us. Then he smiled and said, ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll be in the kitchen, got the stew to check on. See you there later, Rowan?’

‘Yeah!’ I grinned at him. ‘See ya there!’

As he walked away, Phaedra turned to me again and looked me up and down, from my choppy hair to my sandaled feet. ‘You best not get any ideas, you know,’ she said, turning around, and I followed behind. ‘It’s not permitted, not that he’d go for a plain looking thing like you even if it were.’

I frowned. ‘Not sure I know what you mean,’ I said slowly.

She glanced at me over her shoulder. ‘Yes, you do. I see the way you look at Archer. You need to forget about it. It’s strictly forbidden for acolytes to get involved.’

‘It ain’t like that.’ I shook my head. ‘There’s nothin’ between Archer an’ me.’

‘Of course there isn’t. And it’ll stay that way.’ Phaedra said nothing more until we reached the dormitory and she showed me to my bed. ‘This is where you sleep. We rise at six for prayer. Curfew is at nine, and we’re in bed by ten.’

‘I work the kitchen,’ I reminded her. ‘I wake at the cock’s crow and I’m exempt from morning prayer.’

She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘So you are. Well, that’s about it. You know where the privies and the bath are, you know meal times. After breakfast we see to our chores, and then we study. And,’ she looked pointedly at me, ‘like I said. Fraternising is strictly forbidden, so you just forget about Archer.’

I smiled. ‘Like I said, it ain’t like that, but thanks for your concern.’ As she turned away from me, I shook my head. Clearly, Phaedra was in love with Archer. Not that I could blame her, because he was kind and sweet, but there really was nothing more than friendship between us, and there couldn’t be, or he’d find out. And anyway, I knew now. I could trust no one. Everyone wants something and those who don’t, end up dead.

‘I’ll go fetch my things,’ I told her and then headed for my old quarters, the shed. The most important things, I kept upon my person; Garrin’s dagger was strapped to my thigh and his key I now wore on a thong around my neck, underneath my robes. A reminder of the fleeting nature of life and of the cruelty of men. The only truly important thing in my pack was the journal Moleyn had given me. I had been writing in it, though what I wrote was practically in code; a mix between the symbols of the Thieves Cant and my atrocious spelling. At least that way, no one would be able to make heads or tails of it.

I took my pack to the dormitory, then returned to the kitchen where Archer was busy stirring the stew and tidying up.

‘Do you know Phaedra well?’ I asked casually as I took over the stew from him. I gave it a taste and found it could do with some bay leaves.

Archer shrugged. ‘Not very well. I’ve known her for a while, we got here around the same time.’

‘How long have you been here?’ I said, realising I hadn’t asked. 

‘About two years,’ he said. With nothing left to do, he sat down on a stool, hands in his lap. ‘My parents sent me here when I was twelve.’

‘They sent you? You’re not an orphan like me or anythin’?’

He shook his head. ‘No, they’re alive. Far as I know. We send a couple of letters a year. They live in Warwittle. On the south-west coast. It takes weeks to travel from here to there.’ He smiled wanly. ‘I’m the youngest of nine, one of four sons. My parents aren’t wealthy and they have dowries to pay for my sisters. The three that are left. One was sent away like I was, but not here to Yaron Lux. Another was married and died in childbirth not long before I left. Anyway, I wasn’t well suited for hard labour and there wasn’t much else in Warwittle—only fishing, farming, and mining—so they sent me here.’

The idea that Archer’s family didn’t want him was heartbreaking. It was one thing to not have parents. Somehow, I thought having parents who didn’t want you was worse. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘What for?’

‘I mean, you didn’t choose this.’

‘No one really chooses anything, Rowan. You didn’t choose to be here either, did you?’

‘No . . .’ I swallowed. ‘But I chose to stay.’

‘If it’s a choice between staying here and going back out on the street,’ his eyes somewhat darkened as he said it, ‘to face hunger, loneliness, and danger, then that’s not a choice.’

I bit my lip. ‘Maybe you’re right. Still, must be . . . I mean, bein’ sent away from your family and havin’ to travel so far . . .’ I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

But Archer gave me a warm smile. ‘It means a lot that you care, Rowan, but I really am fine. If I’d been allowed an informed choice, I probably would have chosen this. It’s a better life than farming or mining, that’s for sure. Many of the other acolytes are like me. Some are orphans like you. Only a few ask to be made acolytes.’

‘What kind was Phaedra?’ I asked.

Archer gave a crooked smile. ‘She was the kind who asked. She says she was called.’

‘Right.’ I tried not to roll my eyes, but it was implied in the look we shared and I laughed. ‘All right, we best get back to it.’

Archer stood, still smiling. ‘Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.’

* * *

I sat down on the privy, exhausted. It had been a week and on top of my kitchen duties, I spent most days in lessons. It was difficult to keep up, though Archer had picked up where Moleyn had left off and was helping me with my writing and reading when we had some time between lessons and cooking. 

Phaedra still treated me with an aloof distance. She wasn’t unkind, but she clearly didn’t care for me much either. I told her good morning and goodnight, and otherwise spoke to her only when needed.

When somebody’s hand touched the handle on the door, I realised too late that it hadn’t latched properly when I shut it, and so I barely had time to react when the door was pulled open to reveal Phaedra on the other side. She stared at me, then looked down. And then she screamed and bolted.

‘Shit! Phaedra, wait!’ I wiped my arse quickly, got up, and ran after her. ‘Please, just—’ 

She spun around and stared at me in utter disgust. ‘Freak!’ she spat. Then she turned and ran off again. I hurried after, saying nothing. She went straight for Sister Yolanda’s study. It was just as well I simply went with. I would have to face the consequences sooner or later anyway. ‘Sister Yolanda!’ she cried. ‘Rowan’s a liar and a pervert!’

Sister Yolanda raised an eyebrow. ‘She’s a what?’

‘She’s not a she!’ Phaedra scowled at me, then burst into tears. Like most things about her, they did not seem genuine. ‘She . . . he . . . has a . . . and we’ve been sleeping next to each other! It’s disgusting!’

‘What on Earth are you on about, girl?’ Sister Yolanda snapped at her. ‘Rowan? What is the matter with her?’

I sighed. It wouldn’t do much good denying it now. ‘I . . . I’m sorry.’ And before I knew it, I was crying, too. ‘I didn’t mean to . . . They been treatin’ me like a girl for so long I just . . .’

Sister Yolanda’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you mean to tell me that you’re really a boy, Rowan?’

‘No!’ I said. Then, ‘I mean, yes, sort of . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t lie, everyone just assumed and it got so hard to say anythin’. I thought maybe I could jus’, you know, pretend like nothin’ and no one would know . . .’ I looked up at her through my tears. ‘Please . . . please don’t make me leave! I don’t want to go back . . .’ 

She pursed her lips. ‘It’s not for me to decide. I’ll have to speak to Father Eaghan and the rest of the clergy. You stay here. Phaedra, you get ready for bed. It’s nearly curfew.’

They both left me, Phaedra throwing me a disgusted, if bordering on triumphant, glare. I sighed, as the door closed and was locked, and sniffed, looking around. Sister Yolanda’s study was small and simple, with a desk and two chairs, and a single shelf full of books and scrolls. I went over to it, studying the names on the backs of some of the volumes. _On False Gods and Heresy_ was one. _The Triumph of the Sun_ was another. I took the former from the shelf and opened it to the index page. It contained a long list of false gods and their aspects. 

‘ _De-Desn-a, g-goddess of tr-tra-vellers—travellers and luck,_ ’ I read. Shaking my head, I returned the book to its space on the shelf. Reading literature about false gods probably wouldn’t help my case much and in the end, I plopped down in the chair facing the desk. I noted that the one behind the desk, the one Sister Yolanda would normally be sitting in, looked quite a bit more comfortable.

It took a little while, but then Sister Yolanda returned with Father Eaghan and another member of the clergy, an elf I recognised as Brother Neldor. I immediately got to my feet. They all remained standing.

‘Rowan,’ said Father Eaghan. I bowed my head. ‘Sister Yolanda has filled me in. This is very serious. Liars have no place in the Church of the Sun. I believe you owe us an explanation.’

‘Yes, Father,’ I said softly. I tried to hold back my tears and swallowed several times. ‘I . . . I lived on the street for many years. I look a lot like a girl, folk often assumed I was. Truth be told, I never much thought about it, boy or girl, they’re jus’ . . . labels. That other people give you. It could be . . . smart, to be a girl. Folk treat you differently. Kinder, like. So I just . . . I let myself be a girl, most of the time. When I got here, folk assumed again. An’ . . . and it was hard to tell the truth once that was the case. But I never meant to lie, Father, I promise!’

Father Eaghan gave a stern nod and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the door burst open and Archer rushed into the small room. ‘Father Eaghan!’ he said. ‘Please, don’t—’ 

‘Archer!’ Sister Yolanda snapped. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

‘This is most inappropriate,’ said Brother Neldor, frowning.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Archer quickly. ‘I really am, I just—Phaedra told me what happened. I’m here to vouch for Rowan. Boy or girl, she—he’s a good person, and he works hard, and he wants to be here. He’s got nowhere to go back to. Here, he can do good, if you let him. So, please don’t throw him out. He’s not hurt anybody.’

‘I beg to differ,’ said Brother Neldor icily. ‘The boy is a pervert. He’s been spending time in the girls’ dormitories, he’s intruded, who knows what he might have done if this had been allowed to continue. Likely as not he would have assaulted one of the girls!’

‘I ain’t like that!’ I blurted.

‘He would never!’ said Archer emphatically. ‘Rowan would never do anything like that!’

‘You keep a boy around girls long enough,’ Brother Neldor insisted, ‘it’s bound to—’

‘That’s enough, all of you,’ said Father Eaghan. ‘Archer, I appreciate your urge to protect your friend, but you will treat the clergy with respect. You may wait outside.’

Archer looked like he wanted to protest, but in the end he nodded. ‘Yes, Father Eaghan. I apologise for my outburst.’ He cast me a concerned glance before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

‘As for you,’ Father Eaghan turned to me, ‘even if it was not intended as such, deception will not be tolerated. Do you understand?’

I lowered my gaze. ‘Yes, Father Eaghan.’

‘You have been made an acolyte of the Sun. You made a vow of your own free will and I will not throw you out, but you will receive punishment. Tomorrow at dawn, you will be flogged in the courtyard. Twelve lashes with a full whip. After that, you will be moved to the boys’ dormitory. Moleyn’s old bed has not yet been occupied. Tonight, as further punishment, you will sleep in the crypt under the cathedral. Have I made myself clear?’

‘Yes, Father Eaghan,’ I said again, relief flooding my body. I felt my shoulders sag. I hadn’t even realised how tense I’d been. Punishment I could handle; I had suffered worse than flogging in the past. And while I didn’t relish sleeping in the crypt, it couldn’t be worse than some of the places I’d slept over the years. If this was what it took not to have to go back on the street, then I would accept my punishment gladly.

Archer was waiting for me outside the room when we exited. He looked at me anxiously. Before he could ask what was to become of me, Father Eaghan said, ‘You’ve got your wish, Archer. Rowan will be staying with us. I expect you to do your part in keeping an eye on him. Tomorrow, he will move into your dormitory, after he has received his punishment. Now, you are dismissed.’

‘Go to bed, Archer,’ said Sister Yolanda.

Archer swallowed. ‘What about Rowan?’

‘I’m sleeping in the crypt,’ I mumbled. ‘I’m all right. Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I tried to smile at him, and he tried to smile back, though I didn’t think either of us did very well at it. He looked like he wanted to hug me. I really wanted him to. But he didn’t, and after giving me another look, he did as he was asked and walked away.

* * *

They gave me a blanket and a candle. That was all I was permitted to bring with me, though I still had Garrin’s dagger strapped to my thigh under my robes, and his key around my neck. The crypt was cold and dark, the walls lined with coffins. I realised with a jolt that one of those coffins held Moleyn’s corpse and suddenly felt like I might be sick. I swallowed it down. It wouldn’t do to add the smell of vomit to that of dust and decay, which filled the crypt already.

I went a bit further in, until I found myself in a room without coffins, which held only a sarcophagus in the centre. I went into a corner and sat, blanket around my shoulders. I set down the candle. It was already burning low, so instead I closed my eyes and with a sigh, conjured a light that hovered above me. It cast a soft, yellow glow over the room. Part of me wanted to do what I had managed to do once in a graveyard; make my eyes see the invisible, so I would be able to see any ghosts that may be moving around in here. 

I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know, though, so instead I closed my eyes again and whispered, ‘I’m not here to intrude. Just wanna sleep. You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. Deal?’

There came no answer but I hadn’t really expected one, either. The dead don’t speak to the living unless they have good reason to. It took a while to relax enough to fall asleep, but I managed in the end, still seated.

‘Rowan,’ a voice murmured, ‘my friend. Please see me.’

My eyes opened and I blinked. It didn’t take long for the blurry, ghostly apparition to swim into focus. ‘Moleyn,’ I breathed. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. He was crouched before me, eyes level with mine. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Not your fault,’ he whispered. His voice sounded distant, but it was still very much his voice. ‘The only one to blame is Garrin.’

‘So he did . . .’ I swallowed, closed my eyes for a moment. ‘I’m glad I—’ I cut myself off. Did Moleyn know?

He nodded. ‘I’m glad you killed him. I watched you do it. Though I wish you wouldn’t have had to. He—’ Moleyn’s ghost shook his head. ‘He poisoned me, I think. In my sleep. Then held his hand over my nose and mouth while I . . . I’m sorry.’ He looked into my eyes, clearly reading my fear and pain there. ‘You needn’t know the details. Being dead, you forget how death scares the living.’

‘I’m sorry he killed you.’ I felt tears run down my cheeks. ‘It’s ’cause of me. ’Cause you . . . cared for me.’ I drew a shaky breath. ‘An’ I lied to you.’

He reached out as if to touch me, ruffle my hair like he had used to do, before realising that his hand would simply pass through me. ‘You didn’t lie,’ he said softly and smiled. ‘And I would have loved you no less if I had known. About any of it. I sensed you were special. And you are. You are powerful. I can see it shine, your power, like a glow. It comes from here.’ He reached out again, the tips of his fingers a mere inch from my chest as he pointed to my heart. ‘There is more of it than you can control, but one day you will. You are so strong, stronger than you can imagine. Feel it. Own it. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. Don’t ever let anyone tread on you.’

‘Moleyn,’ I sobbed. ‘I don’t know . . . Dunno how to . . . I wish you were with me.’

‘In a way, I am. As long as you remember me.’ He smiled again. ‘Besides, you have Archer to take care of you now. He cares for you as well. You can trust Archer.’

I shook my head. ‘No. Can’t trust no one.’

‘You will,’ he said, voice filled with utter surety. ‘You will trust him, and one day you will find more friends that you can trust. There is only one thing you cannot speak of.’

‘How I killed Garrin,’ I said. ‘I know. They wouldn’t understand.’ I hesitated. ‘But can I tell them how Garrin killed you?’

Moleyn shook his head sadly. ‘I’m afraid they won’t believe you. Especially now.’

‘Okay. I’ll keep it to myself.’ I sighed, and then the tears came again.

‘I would embrace you,’ said Moleyn. ‘One day, if you wanted me to, I might have even kissed you, rules be damned. When you were older.’

I laughed through my tears. ‘You’d kiss a boy?’

‘You’re not a boy. You’re not a girl, either. You’re something different. Something new. Something wonderful.’ Moleyn stood, though it would be more accurate to say that he floated. ‘It is time. I’ve said what I needed to say. Now I must move on.’ He smiled down at me. ‘Goodbye, Rowan.’

I wanted to beg him to stay with me. Beg him not to leave me alone here, in the dark, or ever. But that wouldn’t have been fair. Instead, I said, ‘I love you.’

Moleyn only smiled and as I watched him fade, I heard his voice as though inside my head, whispering, ‘I have guarded you this night. Time to wake up.’

  



End file.
